Leaving Hell In One's Wake
by Shugendo Rites
Summary: Julia seeks to reunite with old family. However, the man she meets is not the brother she remembers... and Isaac is heading down a road from which he will not return.
1. Chapter 1

Even in the quietest of times, Cordova was a busy, thriving town. It should have been a pleasant thing, to wander through it's many markets and streets.

As of recent years though, this was no longer the case.

Dark rumors had reached the ears of the townsfolk. Stories of desecrated churches, missing villagers at nightfall, and attacks on caravans in the forest. These tales plagued Cordova with each new visitor... and word spreads quickly in small towns.

Here, fear of one's neighbors and kin was at an all time high. Glares of suspicion followed even the most casual of passerby. An undercurrent of constant anxiety ebbed and flowed through the town. It would take so little for it to be kindled into a persecution that would end many lives.

It was with this in mind, that a single witch wandered through Cordova.

She traveled alone, which was enough to have curious gazes set upon her. She did not linger anywhere she went, gathering the supplies she needed before setting on her way.

While she walked, she pondered on the state of the town.

How strange it was, that she should fear the people surrounding her, more so than the growing danger beyond them. And it was far worse in the regions she had traversed before. The Hunts had begun once more, and the death and dread it had left in it's path made it difficult for her to even pity these people.

She could see them now. The hired hands now common in many towns, the vampire hunters. Men from varied ethnicities and backgrounds. Some of noble nature, some not. Julia avoided each one she came across. Vampires were not known to be their only quarry.

Ordinarily, she would never have ventured here... were it not for a chance rumor. A strange one at that.

She was not the only witch in hiding. Nor the only one that was forced to wander to avoid discovery. Many women like her were uprooted from their sanctuaries, their homes. She would occasionally encounter these fellow witches. She would offer them what she could, and they often did the same.

Ye, they carried more than just supplies with them. They carried vital knowledge. Information on the towns she traveled, or the number of hunters lurking within each. Stories which were crucial to her survival.

It was a story that brought her here. A tale of man who wandered these streets and often at that. One that bore red hair known only to belong to beasts of ill will.

What made this of importance to Julia? Simply put, it was the resemblance this figure bore to one from her past. Someone she believed to be long departed from this world.

Thus, she spent her days there. Waiting and watching.

Time was against her in this regard. Two more days were all she could spare in staying here. But for this, she would take the risk.

In the likely event that she did not find him, she had alerted her various associates about him. They didn't know the details of her situation, and didn't ask.

Discretion was preferred by everyone.

If he was spotted, perhaps a message could be sent...

* * *

The witch's information was correct. The man in question had indeed visited the village before. Several times in the past few weeks, to be precise. This man, called Isaac by those who knew him, had a very particular reason to be there.

He stayed disguised in these parts, hooded and cloaked. Keeping himself from wary looks and judging minds.

In these days of growing suspicion, his appearance was not uncommon. Many travelers had been alerted to the fear driven glances now famous in this region. Hiding your face from that was the only form of privacy anymore. So he kept to himself, eventually assumed to be one of the many hunters that were so dearly needed.

Noticed by few, and approached by no one. He knew he could only be successful if he maintained that careful balance.

His routine did not change from day to day. He would wander the narrow back alleys and paths. While doing so, he would take note of every building, every pathway.

The population grew slowly here, as he had expected. What few new faces he saw, consisted of merchants selling their wares, or passerby on their way to their next destination. They left but days after they came, and were not to be counted among the main populace.

Thus, he spent his days there. Waiting and watching.

It was tiresome, really. Isaac yearned for this to be over, and wished for a return to his normal, more thrilling rituals. He did not want to be here, hadn't wanted to debase himself by approaching these cattle.

But, such were his orders. Until the job was done, here he would stay.

It was on one of these repetitive tours, that an event of seemingly little note occured.

Isaac was slumming in one of the many byways of the village. He only found more reasons the hate the little town. It's monotony, ugliness, and ignorant residents... They all added fuel to this fire.

What a decrepit little place, he thought as he walked down the alley.

Unknown to him, a small face was peering out at him from a window. This interloper left his hiding spot, following the man silently.

But, for all his stealth, the sound of gravel scraping along the ground was still audible.

Isaac, noting this, carried on as if he had heard nothing. He waited for the sound of that light treading to get closer.

Closer, closer... Then, turning quickly, Isaac snagged the encroacher by the throat. He then drove him into a worn stone wall. Fully meaning to intimidate this stranger, Isaac kept his face compacted into a scowl.

Yet, all that faces him is a boy. Thin and ragged, the whelp shakes in his grip. From his size alone, it is clear that he is far younger than himself. Pity. The idea of a true fight had been invigorating. Snapping this wretch's neck would offer no challenge.

"... And what, pray tell, were you trying to pull?" The forgemaster asked, eyes narrowed. Boredom was already seizing him again.

"T-This is for you." Isaac watched impassively as the brat pulled something from within his ragged coat. Impatient, Isaac snatched it from trembling fingers. An envelope. Pale white, it was easy to tell that the parchment was of fine make.

"Curious. And from whom, exactly, did you get this?"

"It was just from some lady, I dunno who... P-please..."

Isaac flicked to the letter, puzzled. The brat took the opportunity to squirm out and away from him. He ran down the path, back to whatever excuse for a home he had.

Isaac did not bother giving chase. Nor did he examine the letter. Disgust crossed his features, and he crushed the envelope in his hands. Stuffing it down the front of his shirt, he walked away.

Back to his mission, back to the routine and it's tedium.

* * *

It was well past nightfall when Isaac returned to the castle. His homecoming was heralded by the hundredfold of bats that erupted out the entrance as the drawbridge lowered. Their noise and flutter did not perturb the forgemaster. Indeed it was more like a welcoming choir in it's familiarity.

He would not need to make his report to his lord until the following night. For now, there were other tasks to be accomplished. For that, there was only one place to go.

The Alchemy Laboratory. Where the art of science and the arcane blended together in a flawless mesh. Where his training had begun and been completed.

Appreciation for his home filled the forgemaster at the familiar sight. Phials, glass flasks and varied instruments lined every shelf. In each lay the results of countless experiments. Some were dead, preserved and pickled in various chemicals. Whereas the other, living specimens twitched in their tiny containers. Each of them eager to break free and wreak their havoc.

It was here, that the full nature of their abilities were explored. Creating new forms of life in all their twisted glory. Contorting the matter of the natural world into a being of one's own design.

This was the true nature of Devil Forging. A nature that Isaac embraced with his entire being.

This was the power Dracula offered to his most loyal, his most worthy. He alone could deliver the means to diverge from the Creator and become a god in one's own right.

It was their lord's current wish that his two forgemasters go beyond their limits. To push the outer bounds of their abilities, and forge a new devil. One greater than all before.

The challenge had been set for them both, but Isaac would ensure that he would be the victor. For whoever succeeded at this venture, glory was certain to follow.

And it was for this purpose that he was here. Certain texts would be needed if he was to map out a path to his newest Devil.

How else was he to gain the upper hand in their little "contest"?

Skilled though his rival may be, there were certain lines Hector would not cross to refine his art. Isaac had no such compunctions. He would breach every barrier the world had to offer if needed.

Hector had natural talent at his side, possessed from birth. As for Isaac, his determination, his tenacity... With those at his side, Isaac planned to trancend Hector entirely.

For in the eyes of their lord Dracula, there could only be one favorite.

Rounding the corner, he was forced to stop at the sight before him. Unfortunately, it seems he was not alone. Standing before one of the many bookcases was his fellow forgemaster, Hector.

"What are you doing here?" Isaac asked wearily. Usually, Hector preferred to keep his trial and errors confined to his own quarters. When he did venture into the laboratory, rarely was it for anything other than supplies.

His fellow Forgemaster turned, casually noting Isaac's arrival. "Did we not both come here with the same intent? If my presence bothers you, I am sure there is information in the Library befitting for your studies."

"That is no longer an option for me."

Hector tilted his head, curious enough to want an explanation.

"Our Librarian has declared me banned." Isaac rolled his eyes. "Temporarily, of course. But, it leads me to the unnecessary chore of completing my research here."

This answer brought a wry grin from Hector. "Perhaps his animosity has something to do with the havoc your Crimson wreaked in his studies last time."

Isaac shrugged. "The poor creature wanted to stretch her wings. Who am I to deny her that? Besides, what fool doesn't keep his personal chambers under lock and key? The door was open. T'was his own fault."

Hector snorted."An interesting way to look at it. I doubt the old man sees it as such."

"Does it matter? It will not hinder me in the slightest." Already wishing to end this conversation, he kept his back to Hector. Isaac removed his coat, hanging it upon the back of a chair. He took his seat, selecting a scroll from it's surface.

Unbeknownst to him, the letter had slipped.

It fell to the floor, missed by Isaac, caught instead by Hector's keen gaze. Isaac turned to see his rival lifting the tattered envelope off the floor. He watched blankly, having already forgotten that it existed.

Hector eyed the envelope, smoothing it out carefully. "Such elegant handwriting." he commented. When he examined closer, he laughed. "It seems you've found yourself an admirer, Isaac! At long last!"

Isaac barely cast a look at him. "By all means, keep it if you wish. I have no desire to answer it, and you've no abundance of admirers yourself."

Hector threw up his hands, a comical look of hurt on his face. Then he just chuckled. "Perhaps you are right. Still, I won't take this from you." Waving it in Isaac's direction, Hector strode over to him. "After all, I wouldn't wish to break the good lady's heart." With a wink, he lightly dropped the letter atop the desk. "That's your responsibility."

Isaac didn't respond, prefering to concentrate on the task before him, rather than the fool behind him.

"In truth, I wonder where you got such a thing." Hector sat, reclining on the chair.

Finally, Isaac turned to face him. Irritation had hit it's mark within him, which he damn well knew was Hector's intent. Of course he wasn't about to be left in peace.

"Some hired twit in Cordova passed it on to me." Isaac replied. "At the very least, I hope the fool got his money's worth out of it." Isaac pushed the letter aside to the far left of the table. It would be disposed of later.

"Cordova? Not far at all then." Hector smirked. "I hadn't realized you'd taken to having trysts at the local hamlets."

Isaac put down the scroll he had been perusing and turned to glower at him. "T'was the will of our lord that bid me go there. Hardly what one calls a tryst."

"Is that so?" Hector only looked puzzled now. "Why?"

Startled, Isaac looked to him. "You don't know?"

This time it was Hector who shrugged. "You are not the only one who has appointments to keep. I have been busy as well."

"So I was entrusted with this task alone." Isaac mused, before smiling to himself. "As it should be." Turning his back to the man, he continued his work.

Hector stared, piqued at not getting the answer he wished.

"I suppose that this lady will be bereft of your company tonight, then? Immersed as you are in your work, I doubt you would have the time for her anyway." Hector frowned. Isaac was still paying him no heed. "Though perhaps she is better off for it." he remarked.

"You are wasting my time." Isaac coolly replied. He idly pushed his hair out of his eyes."Didn't you just say you had your own work to cope with?" Hector clearly was not going to leave of his own accord.

"How subtle. Very well, I will leave." Hector sighed, before stretching and rising to his feet. Never one to miss a parting shot, he called back as he ventured out of the room. "Just try to be kind to your dear "Julia" when you turn her down, won't you?"

At the mention of that name, Isaac's hand jarred and dropped the scroll.

It hit the ground, cracking one of the wooden rollers. The Librarian would be furious.

Isaac turned to the door Hector had exited, about to call him back. Thinking better of it, he paused. He looked to the letter on the desk and reached out to clutch it, an unfamiliar tremor in his hand. Only now did he deign to read the name written upon it.

Removing one of his gloves, he ran a thin fingernail under the wax seal. Taking out it's contents, he began to read...

...

Minutes passed before he finished. Reading each line, each word several times. It was unthinkable. He lowered the letter, where it fell from his quivering hands to the ground.

A meeting. _She_ was claiming to want a meeting with him. A discreet one as well, at a local church. No masks, no pretense, only a safe place to "reconnect".

Isaac pulled aside a chair. He was shaking as he took a seat.

Reaching down, Isaac took the damaged scroll from the ground. All the while his thoughts ran incessantly, prying into every doubt he held. If it was true... Incomprehension struck him, dulling his thoughts to a stop.

He put the scroll back on the table. Who else could recognize him now? Who else but Lord Dracula knew of his past, and his parent's actions? Was it a ruse? Some brutal ploy to draw him out into the open? The timing of it was far too convenient.

As he contemplated, his gaze fell to a small stand resting on the table. It upheld a small dagger, often used in ceremonies.

In a single movement Isaac draws it out. He studies the blade, eyeing his reflection.

There was little choice. Either way, he had to return to Cordova.

The Forgemaster placed the knife back in it's sheath. He concealed it easily, strapped to his wrist and hidden by the sleeve. It would remain there until needed.

If what this woman claimed turned out to be true, then he had everything to gain.

If not... he would find compensation for his time, one way or another.

* * *

As dawn approached, a single rider could be seen riding from the gates of Dracula's castle. Isaac had ventured outward, back to the doomed village.

* * *

Early in the morning, a single woman could be seen making her way to the town's only church. Julia had heard word from her messenger, and went with the intent of fulfilling a promise.


	2. Chapter 2

Even as a child, Isaac had never liked churches.

A curiosity indeed, as now he could see the similarities between this structure and that of his master's home. With it's high, vaulted ceilings, and various aisles, it's easy to believe the imitation was intentional.

Though unlike his home, there were no fond memories here.

How silent it all was! Occasionally, the whisper of a murmured prayer would reach his ears, but that was all. He could hardly say he minded that much.

Along the walls, he spied several stained glass depictions. The fortune spent on those alone could have been put to much better use in the village. To think that the residents complained so much of there troubles! Whatever wealth they needed to fix their problems lay in these very halls. But no, the idea of sacrilege alone was enough to scare them away from such an obvious solution.

But, at least the church's coffers are full. Thank heavens for that.

Despite this attempt, his sarcasm did nothing to cheer him. His bitterness only grew with each of his steps.

For Isaac knew it had not been the church he'd hated. It had been the prying eyes of the priests, and the doddering monks that tailed them. It was the constant cringing and hate-filled glances he'd always received.

Demon-child, the townsfolk had declared. Wretched, his father had called him.

His father had another word for him as well, far less used, but no less damaging. A term that had taken years for him to understand. Both it's meaning, and it's far reaching consequences.

Bastard.

T'was the reason for the hatred. The reason for his mother's tears. Eventually, it was the reason for his exile.

For all my efforts, I could not prove myself worthy of their love. But, in the days to come, I will prove myself worthy of their hatred.

After all, in this land, only hatred is given freely.

He chuckled suddenly, only to have a startled priest looked up at him. Isaac brushed past him without pause.

There. A girl standing by the altar, alone. Reading a breviary of all things. He wrinkled his nose slightly. Perhaps it was not her? Edging closer, he cautiously peered at her.

"Julia?" She almost dropped the book in surprise. She turned to the man with a questioning look. For a moment the two beheld each other. Both unsure of what to say or do.

Surreptitiously, Isaac spied his surroundings. After affirming that no one else was present, Isaac pulled down his hood. Loose, crimson hair spilled out. It settled against his face, garishly bright in this dull house of prayer.

The girl gasped. She placed the book down and came forward.

"Are you...?" She did not seem to know how to continue. Finally she asked, "The message that was given to you, are you the one it was meant for?"

He watched her, face inscrutable. "I am called Isaac. Whatever that means to you and your letter, would depend on who you truly are."

Her eyes were fixed on his face now, examining every feature. The forgemaster squirmed internally. Was she looking for a lie, judging his appearance... Or trying to recall old memories?

Shaken, he studied her in turn. What scant memories he had of that little girl... T'would be difficult to match them to anyone. Surely it couldn't be her?

She spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "I've heard that a conjurer wanders these regions. One that possesses red hair. When I learned that, I began to seek you out."

Isaac could not stop himself from rolling his eyes. Conjurer? Was that the role he had been reduced to in their eyes? If so, then that would change, and soon.

Tired of dragging this out, Isaac got to the point. "You made an intriguing claim in that letter of yours. It interested me so much, in fact, that I was willing to drag myself out here."

He circled the girl briefly before leaning towards her. "I do so hope you are telling the truth. Or at the least, you have an equally compelling reason to have me here."

Pausing to study his nails, he went on. "You've chosen an odd place to meet, as well. Meeting a supposed heretic in a chapel? Risking the wrath of the church is no small matter. Looking her dead in the eye, he sneered, "Perhaps you were hoping for their protection in case things... got out of hand?"

Oddly enough, she did not balk under his piercing stare or sinister words. There was no sense of deceit or hostility emanating from her. At least none that was plain.

Her tone was calm as she replied, "No, I know better than to expect protection from anyone. I chose this place because it is quiet and solitary." She stepped back, attempting to diffuse more of his doubt. "I understand your suspicion. What can I do to convince you...?"

Isaac inclined his head. "Let's begin with why you sought me of all people. I'm sure it will make for an interesting tale." He then promptly withdrew the letter from the confines of his cloak.

Unfolding it, he began to read, "Let's see now... According to this, you lost a brother of yours years ago." He offered her a rather disdainful smile. "How tragic. But, you do know you aren't unique in that regard, yes?"

His tone cut her like glass, as her expression changed from surprise to a baffled, hurt look.

"The world is a harsh place, dear girl. None of us leave it unscathed." Isaac gestured at the letter, and then motioned towards himself. "As for my resemblance to your poor fellow... My appearance may be unusual, to say the least. But, is that really all you have to go on?"

"Yes, but that's not-"

"Then your evidence is rather paltry, wouldn't you say?"

"I am sorry. I just... Y-You look so..." She allowed herself to trail off, not knowing how to explain further.

Isaac smiled coldly and offered her a curt bow. "I think we can agree that you have wasted your time, and mine."

She looked away. "You really aren't him, then?"

Isaac ignored this and turned to leave, paying her no heed. It was a relief to be able to deny her. He could return home now, with his fears eased. Undisturbed by the past and it's secrets.

In passing, he called to her over his shoulder. "My condolences on your loss."

Angered now, the girl finally snapped at him. "Did you only come here to mock me?"

Isaac felt the urge to laugh, but crushed it. She was pitiable enough. "I thought it was the least I could offer."

"Well, you're wrong. I did not lose my brother." She angrily declared. "He was taken from me."

Again, she was ignored. But, this only served to only incense her further. "He was turned out from his own home. Exiled by his own parents."

Isaac stopped. His hand violently twitched, crushing the letter.

"But then, they were no different from the people in this village. Cowards, all of them. Filled with hatred."

Isaac whipped around to face her. Her stare was filled with condemnation, almost causing him to step back. She took full notice of this and pressed on in her judgement.

"You are just the same. You hide your fear behind your cruel words."

Isaac bridled at this. "You haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

"Why should I argue with you? After all, haven't I wasted enough of your precious time?" This time, she turned, refusing to acknowledge him any further. "I will not stand for anymore of your scorn. You were right and I was mistaken."

"No." Isaac said dispassionately. "You weren't. And that is the cruelest fact of all."

She heard footstep behind her. She spun to face him, a bit frightened. "What-?"

"Oh, by all means. Let me finish the story. I am after all, the only one that can." He leaned until his face was but inches from hers.

"You-?"

"I was abandoned. Led away and forsaken by my own father." Backing off, he crossed his arms. "A familiar tale, no?"

"Isaac?" Her hands reached outward as if to grasp his face. Isaac didn't move. As if remembering herself, Julia stopped and stepped back.

"He said that you had run away." She stared at her hands, now tightly gripped together. " I knew it could not be true. I attempted to run off, after they told me." She tried to laugh but only succeeded at a sob. "It did little good... There was nothing but forest for miles. Of course, they found me and brought me back."

What a joke. That there should be a reunion now, after all this...

Isaac hesitated before asking. "Our parents... Are they still present with you?"

"No. Father died shortly after you left." She looked away, completely missing Isaac smile at this news.

"He was killed in a brawl at the local tavern. That's gone now, too. It burned down four years ago."

"Good riddance to it." Isaac offered, and she nodded.

"It's sad to say, but we weren't any worse off without him. Mother and I lived off what we had until-". Once again, her words trailed off.

"Did she die as well?" Isaac tried to keep his voice gentle. The awkwardness he felt astounded him. He was not some inexperienced child anymore. However, empathy was not something he had oft felt or received in life.

But, he supposed he had little practice at these things.

"No." Julia said softly. "To my knowledge, she is still alive. But, I have not seen her for many a year. And I do not plan on seeing her again soon."

Silence reigned as Isaac struggled to understand. When it became clear, it seemed obvious."Ah." Isaac said simply."So, you were rejected too?"

"My abilities took longer than yours to appear. But, appear they did. Mother discovered it, of course and I was to go to a convent."

"I suppose she thought sending me away would... fix me. But, there was nothing malicious about my talents." She stared at he hard floors, looking lost. "Not then, and certainly not now." She whispered. "Such was the case for you. You never harmed me or anyone..."

The smile her brother offered her was sweet, but his words were bitter. "Yet, still they sought to be rid of us."

The anger he held was not for his sister. T'was not her fault. It never had been.

But, he would never forgive them.

She smiles back at him, but it was a tearful thing. "You even used to conjure flowers for me."

Isaac chuckled. For once, there was not even a hint of mockery in it. "Yes, I did. Back then, it seemed the only trick that would negate your tantrums."

Looking at her seriously, Isaac said, "You still hold that memory? Such a little thing... Hardly worth the effort."

Julia beams at him, and for an instant, the old hate in him dissipates. It would return, of course. But, for now...

"But what of you? Where have you been living all this time?"

Isaac started at the question. A odd expression crossed his face, realizing he didn't know how to answer her. Treading carefully, he responded, "I am employed to a... nobleman. As a sorcerer of sorts. For years now, I've been housed within the grounds of my benefactor's property."

"How did you meet this man?" There were no signs of suspicion on her face. It seemed the more menacing tales of this "conjurer" had not reached Julia's ears. Yet.

Isaac paused to consider how he should explain. "He was the one who found me wandering that day. I was offered sanctuary by him, and at the time I most needed it."

"You were very lucky. Your lord must be quite compassionate."

"Yes." he replied absently. To his mind, there was no irony in her statement.

His distraction went unnoticed, as Julia spoke on. "I've been staying at one of the local inns."

His eyes flicked back to focus on her, startled. "Here? How long?"

She blinked, confused at the abrupt change in his tone. "I wasn't planning on staying for more than two days at most.

"You shouldn't stay. A village like this is dangerous, but especially for one like you."

"That matters little. Nowhere is safe these days. I've had to keep moving for some time now..." Julia broke off, interrupted by the jarring chime of the church's bell. High above them, it rang, signaling the coming of the morning Mass. Isaac could already see some of the locals beginning to file in through the doors.

He immediately drew up his cowl. He couldn't afford to stay longer.

Julia watched the crowd with undisguised fear. When began to make his way towards the door, she raised a hand, as if imploring him to wait.

"Tomorrow." He responded quietly. "But, we'll meet in the evening this time."

They could afford to wait. Just processing this conversation would prove a challenge for him.

He barely saw her nod before he set forward.

Forcing himself to be patient, he concealed himself near a corner. Waiting for all who entered to pass.

He looked back, to see Julia easing herself through the crowd as well. His sister. At last the shock had hit him fully.

"I had so hoped this would prove to be a hoax." he muttered, as he saw the doors finally shut behind her.

Before long, the way was clear for him as well. Keeping his head piously tucked down, he forged through them all.

The castle was waiting, and he was eager to return.


	3. Chapter 3

_Tomorrow would wait._

It was a phrase Isaac had to strive to remember. Yet, doing so eased little of his impatience.

Before, Isaac's work had always brought some clarity. Losing himself to that rhythm and routine had distracted him from all else.

It did little to help him now.

He closed his eyes, putting away thoughts of family. Focus.

Night was fast approaching, and he had yet to bring his newest Devil to form.

So he worked with fervor, collecting the compounds he needed. A scowl was fixed on his face as he mixed them together.

Raising his blade, he nicked his finger, adding his blood to the blend. T'was nessessary to connect him with the creature. His life, his matter would give the Devil substance.

Then, Isaac spent the better part of an hour painting sigils onto the floor, with only dim candlelight to guide his progress. He paused only to swipe sweat off his brow.

When all was ready, he rose to his feet. He faltered a little, before recovering his stance. He felt no small sense of self-disgust.

 _Drained already, and with so much left to do._

No matter. He would have to continue.

The incantation is old, and deeply ingrained in his mind. Steadying his voice and his thoughts, he calls out to the creature. It is waiting, now he needs only visualize it.

For several seconds, all is quiet. But, Isaac could feel the energy building all around him. Frail but determined. Yet, he does not allow exhaustion to diminish his demand.

" _Come forth!_ " His cry echoes around the small chamber.

Then, in the center of the room, a shadow began to rise from the ashes of the compound.

Wicked horns curled skyward, great and curved like that of a minotaur. Reaching a height far greater than Abel's, it stood upon four stilt-like legs. Sharp claws protruded from them, and it tottered slightly before achieving an uneasy balance.

Isaac mentally likened it to a toddler taking it's first steps, and he grinned. A sense of relief and pride reached him, easing the fear.

The devil turned to face him. There, on the beast's chest, Isaac spotted something.

A small fissure. A single flaw, nothing he should worry about, but still...

He felt his mirth fade as his creation took another step forward, and stumbled. Isaac's eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest.

The fissure spread, and the sound of grinding stone met his ears.

"No." Isaac muttered, realizing what was to come.

The cracks running up it's center spiraled further and further outward along it's granite abdomen. Twisting it's immense neck to peer down, the Devil's eyes widened with animalistic terror. Letting loose a keening screech of pain, it began to convulse.

The creature writhed and twisted, shriek after shriek escaping it. Flecks of gravel and crystal rained upon the ground, upon Isaac.

There was nothing the Forgemaster could do now. His effort had not been enough and now that failure lay within in the Devil's own form.

He was forced to dive aside as the being toppled from it's crash reverberated through the chamber and several vials and their contents crashed to the ground from it's impact.

Isaac closed his eyes. It was easier than watching his work collapse.

Finally, quiet reigned. Isaac rose from his crouch and took account of the damage.

The remains laid strewn about, still crumbling before him.

If nothing else, the Devil had managed to prove it's power before death. The room and it contents had been annihilated. Glass crunched under Isaac's step. He stepped forward only to hear the table crash to the ground behind him.

A shuddering laugh escaped Isaac as a familiar sense of failure gripped him.

 _Have I really reached the limit of my potential?_

If so, then what point was there in continuing his service? Living a lifetime of being overlooked, eclipsed by Hector? _No._

This couldn't be rectified. Not with the time he had left. Victory would have given Isaac better standing, but once this disaster was realized... There was only so low one could fall in Dracula's favor.

He trudged out of the ruins of the chamber, exiting through a battered doorframe.

He leaned against the nearest wall, before slowly sinking to his knees.

Panic had not set in, nor would it. His resignation had offered him what comfort it could. Leaning his head against the wall, Isaac let himself drift off.

* * *

 _Tiny, warm hands clutch his own. They are shaking, but he holds them close. Soon, he knows, they will be steady of their own accord._

 _After Father's rage had passed._

 _"It will be okay." he hears himself whisper. "Soon, they will stop."_

 _It is a lie, but a necessary one. Julia won't calm down without it._

 _He hears Father now, screaming in the other room. A crash resounds as something breaks, and the boy cringes. Their's was a small house, and there was not much else that he could break. When he could find no more objects to take his rage out on... He worried for Mother._

 _Usually, she could defend herself, but tonight... Tonight was especially bad._

* * *

"ISAAC!"

He wakes, shaking.

Hector stands before him, looking concerned. Hatred surged within Isaac at that pity-filled stare. He rises to his feet immediately, brushing the hand off his shoulder.

There was never a day where he enjoyed recalling the past. Preferring to focus on the now had saved him many times. But then, some nights passed, and memories came with them. In the form of nightmares those hateful, bygone days were brought back to life.

Isaac would never forget. It would never let him.

Looking around him proves that nothing has changed. He had remained in place, against the wall, in the castle. The room was still destroyed, his fate still in the air.

But at least he was where he belonged.

"He's summoned us." Hector informs him. Gone now were his pointless jests. He offered no comment on Isaac's state or the room, and his voice is toneless. But still, _still_ he has that piteous look on his face.

How loathsome.

"T'was my assumption." Isaac muttered as he stood. "Why else would you be here?"

Hector was not looking at him anymore. Rather, he was examining the remains of Isaac's most recent effort. The realization had reached him long before he woke Isaac.

"Is this...? Have you nothing else to present to him?" The look on Hector's face is one of apprehension, not scorn. This surprised Isaac, who had expected to be mocked for this apparent fiasco.

Still, he gives no answer. The truth is obvious, and the rage he feels is unescapable. To voice it was unthinkable.

"Isaac... Why did you not simply ask for my help?"

Isaac snorted. "Your help... How kind of you, _Hector._ " he spat the name. "You think I want your aid?"

"My help may not be wanted, but if it is needed then I am willing to give it. You cannot go before him like this."

"Really? And what of you...? I presume you had no trouble creating a new Devil. Well, don't worry. There's no contest now. " Bitterness laced every one of Isaac's words and carried across every syllable. " Revel in your victory. Your opponent is beaten, and I'm sure the reward for you will be great."

"Rewards matter little to me, as of late." Hector kept casting his gaze aside, looking distracted.

Resigned, Isaac made for the exit.

Hector stepped in his path, forcing him to pause. "I wished to speak to you."

"Why?"

"This order we've been given, does it not seem strange to you?"

"What are you going on about?"

"I have been tasked with nothing but the creation of new Devils, new matter. Admittedly, It has eaten away my time and concentration. But, there have been odd goings on. I am sure you have noticed it as well."

Isaac held his silence.

"Yet... I feel as if something much worse is coming. " Hector began pacing. It annoyed Isaac endlessly.

At last he got to the point. "Isaac, I need to know... For what purpose have you been sent to Cordova?"

Isaac crossed his arms. "I have been tasked with scouting the village out."

"For what purpose?" Hector repeated.

"It has been condemned by Lord Dracula." Isaac replied flatly. "It waits now only to be destroyed."

Hector just stood there, shocked into silence. At long last.

"Why?" he finally uttered, eyes wide. "It has been years since the Lady's death. I thought time had eased her passing for him."

Isaac looked to his partner with disdain. "Don't be an idiot." he hissed. "Look at your own losses. Your pain. Even with the pass of time, have they vanished?" He waved his hand in the air, flippantly. "I suppose you no longer stay awake at night either, counting your sorrows."

Hector was silent once more. A desirable outcome.

"Vengeance eases his pain. And if that is what our count seeks, then I will gladly aid in giving it to him." Isaac lunged forward, catching a handful of Hector's hair. Pulling the man forward, Isaac sneered as Hector grimaced. "We both shall." he promised, every word an open threat.

Hector wrenched out of his grip, shoving his peer away. "He already exacted his punishment upon them! He slew all those responsible. Every last one..."

"Indeed. And if my memory serves, you approved at the time."

"I didn't..." Hector's voice trailed off as he placed a hand to his own brow. "I agreed that he should have his revenge." he admitted miserably.

"Exactly. Why fuss over it then?"

"Because he took it too far!" He gestured emptily at the room. A desperate look had come into his eyes. "Both then and now... This meaningless slaughter goes far beyond simple revenge. You must realize that." The man peered at Isaac entreatingly. As if trying to see depths that just weren't there. Isaac bristled at this, and turned away.

"Why wait all this time?"

Isaac tilted his head back to look at him witheringly. "To conquer Wallachia, one needs an army. Even for one so powerful as Dracula." Derision was present in his features as he watched his _friend_. "Raising such a force requires time. And time is something he has always held in abundance."

"How long have you known this?"

"Long before you, evidently."

"Enough games, Isaac!"

"Oh, gods, do you have any sense?!" Isaac shoved the man back into his former seat. "What do you think the purpose of our training was?!" he demanded.

Hector's hands clenched, nails digging into the arms of the chair. He leaned forwards until his face was but inches from his fellow forgemaster. "Our purpose is to protect Lord Dracula." His face was rigid, his tone resolute. "To defend him from harm. Not to massacre townsfolk."

"What an impassioned speech!" Isaac bowed, always happy to mock. "However meaningless. You and I shall do as we're bid. Or did you forget your oaths?"

"I have forgotten nothing. And I'll not allow this to go any further." Hector stood abruptly, hurling Isaac away from him. He strode towards and out the door.

"Where are you going?!"

Hector did not offer an answer.

"You honestly think you'll accomplish anything? I can assure you, nothing will change. Why should it?"

But Hector acts as if he doesn't hear.

It occurs to Isaac that perhaps he should allow this. Better to let Hector make a fool of himself, if he could not win through other means.

He stops, hearing the echo of Hector's boots hitting the ground. When the man leaves his sight, Isaac goes to stand against the wall.

Luckily, with what Hector had in mind, the conversation would hardly last. He won't be waiting long.

In a few moments, Isaac is proven correct. The sound of Hector's telltale footsteps reach his ears. But, they are slower than before, carrying the man's dejection with them. It was clear how the discussion had proceeded.

"How did it go?' Isaac asked cheerily.

Hector does not look at him. Rage and disappointment seem to course through the man, a distinctive twitch making his opinion clear. Instead of answering Isaac, he heads down the opposite corridor. No doubt making the long trek to his room, tail betwixt his legs.

Isaac crossed his arms, a slow smile marking his face.

His satisfaction faded instantly as he faced the long hallway.

T'was his turn now, after all.


End file.
